With Bolter and Blade
by sparks4
Summary: This was going to be entry into the heroes of the space marines short story contest awhile back Imperial Fists come to the aid of an agri-world, you tell me if the campaigns of Chaplain Dolus Tarsimov should be given proper attention. I just finished it.
1. Plea for help

Clearance: Magenta

Encryption: Enigmus v 4.1

Date: 216.999.M41

Author: Governor Konrad Herstein

Subject: A most grievous concern

Recipient: Vladimir Pugh, Chapter Master of the Imperial Fists, Segmentum Obscurus, Tirus Sector

May the manifold blessings of the Emperor be upon you my lord, I feel we may need it for there is darkness descending upon my world. Demeter has fallen prey to Chaos my lord, the cultist cells have risen up when the foul Iron Warriors descended from the sky. Many of the smaller townships and cities have become silent.

The bulk of the Planetary Defense Force has fallen back into our three major cities and the monsters are content to wait parade the corpses of the fallen around desecrated with foul sigils. Priests patrol the line day and night, preaching and shouting the words of our lord Emperor against the hellish litanies of our aggressors.

My lord Pugh I beseech thee to come to the aid of my world, cleanse it of the Chaotic taint that has befallen it. I pray to the Golden Throne of Terra that we may be delivered from the Hell that waits outside our walls.

Your ever faithful servant,

_Konrad Herstein_


	2. Reply

Clearance: Magenta

Encryption: Enigmus v 4.1

Date: 218.999.M41

Author: Chapter Master Vladimir Pugh

Subject: RE: A most grievous concern

Recipient: Konrad Herstein, Governor of Demeter, Segmentum Obscurus, Vikar Sector--

--

My Lord Governor Herstein,

The Emperor has smiled upon you this day, for the eighth company is within weeks of your position, having returned from a prior engagement. They will be informed of your plight and an adequate response will be formed.

The bastard sons of Peturabo will be brought to justice for their sins.

Emperor deliver thee from evil,

_Vladimir Pugh_


	3. Vigilant Eternal

The Battle Barge  
_Vigilant Eternal_  
Imperial Fists Eighth Company

The incense hung heavily in the air, the smoke curling and weaving every which way. Chaplain Dolus Tarsimov meditated in the center of his sparsely decorated quarters, the simple chitin he wore clinging loosely to his flesh. He drew a deep breath and relaxed every muscle, eyes closed. He offered his praise to the Emperor and to his gene-father Rogal Dorn.

Chaplain Dolus was the very epitome of a son Dorn, following the doctrine of the Codex Astartes to the letter, he was almost three hundred years old. Dolus was chosen for his exalted position as a spiritual father of the Imperial Fists for his deeds on the fortress world of Ghalatio VI, the diseased legions of Nurgle had attempted to wrest that planet from the Imperium. Sickness had soon spread through the ranks of the defenders, even the enhanced immune system of the Astartes failed to prevent them from infection. Hundreds of thousands died. No cure could be found and all hope seemed lost, but the answer to calamity that had befallen the Emperor's army was soon to be uncovered. A daemon masquerading as the Chief Medicae had been administering Nurgle's horrid "gifts" and none had even suspected. The then Sergeant Dolus had laid eyes on the Medicae supposed to prevent such horrid pestilence from befalling them and immediately saw the rot as if he were the only one who was not blind. Dolus had commandeered a flamer from a nearby guardsman and unleashed a cone of cleansing fire upon the warp-beast. The men and women watching saw, to their horror, the essence of the warp thing clawing and screaming as it was banished back to the Empyrean. Dolus's superiors had decided to train him in the ways of the warrior-shepherd, and to entrust to him the souls of the battle brothers of the chapter.

"Chaplain your presence is required at the bridge"

Dolus's eyes snapped open and the world came back into focus, he rose to his feet. The chapter serfs had waited diligently for Dolus to finish his prayers so that they may once again clad him in his ancient, holy armour, master crafted and presented only to the chaplains of the Imperial Fists.

Auto-Senses were prepared, neuro-links were connected to the Black Carapace

Ceramite Plate hefted with some difficulty onto the massive body of the Astartes warrior-priest

The serfs poured sacred oils over the holy wargear anointing it for future battles

Lastly, the Crozius Arcanum was presented to Dolus

He regarded the chapter servant with a glance and then hefted his symbol of office, testing its weight, reacquainting himself with the holy weapon.

Dolus strode out into the large corridors and made his way to the bridge.

--  
Chaplain Dolus arrived at the bridge. He opened the large ornately decorated oak doors, and his senses were filled with smell of unguents and incense that seemed to permeate wherever the followers of the Machine God worked on Imperial technology. Dolus cast his gaze over the dimly lit room, searching for the source of his summons.

"Ah, Chaplain there you are" greeted a figure in the gloom

"My Captain Viktor Ortheus, well met brother" responded Dolus, "I am quite curious as to what would require a chaplain on the bridge of a starship…"

"Only the most dire of circumstances, I assure you brother, Chaos comes to the agri-world of Demeter" Captain Ortheus shifted his gaze to the data slate in his hand

We are to be directed to this world of Demeter then? Suppressing a few cultist cells is it? Surely you are wasting my time Viktor" Dolus eyes flashed angrily

Viktor handed the slate to the chaplain and allowed him to read over its contents.

Viktor watched as Dolus's eyes betrayed the emotions he was feeling, he observed the hatred that engulfed the chaplain then.

"I will prepare my flock immediately, they will rejoice at the prospect of killing Iron Warriors" his eyes were ablaze with righteous fury, "I will ready their souls to the task of combating the archenemy"

With that Dolus exited the bridge, no doubt voxing the company to gather together

Viktor Ortheus turned his gaze back to the viewscreen from atop his command throne.

"Prepare for warp jump!" he fed the coordinates to the navigator and sat back, staring out into the depths of space.


	4. At the Gates

Corrinthia Primaris  
The Capital of Demeter  
On the line

"For Chaos Undivided!"  
Yet another cultist added his voice to the feral screams of his comrades, throwing himself at the Imperial defenders. The cultist charged through the lasfire and giggled maniacally as his brothers-in-arms were gunned down around him, he so very much wanted to paint his knife with the blood and innards of those Imperial dogs and he was determined to reach their lines even if it meant certain death. In the excitement of the battle the cultist had even forgotten his own name, caring only for the carnage and slaughter around him, everything else was useless. All across no man's land, the cultists and traitor guard were charging across the pockmarked landscape, through scattered brush and over barbed wire, over mines and into the embrace of death.

The guardsman had seen this cultist run like a man possessed, maybe he was? After all the heretics were in league with damned, why would they not be possessed? He lifted his lasrifle to his shoulder and took aim at the charging maniac and fired.  
Miss.  
Fired again and again and again.  
Miss, miss, miss.  
"By the throne he's fast!" The guardsman had seemed to make it his personal quest to end this heretic, as if it was what he was born to do.

By the sheer ferocity of the charge the cultist line collided with Demeter Planetary Defense Force 513th Regiment. A desperate hand to hand battle ensued as Imperial Guardsman fought with fury and fervor for their families that still live in the cities or for revenge against the monsters that burned their townships and homes to the ground.

The guardsman and the cultist were face to face with each other now, snarling and swearing as they kicked and punched and scratched, each trying to overpower the other. The cultist could not bring his knife to bear nor could the guardsman sheath his bayonet in the flesh of his adversary, and there they struggled as the battle raged on around them, too consumed in their own personal duel, each thinking themselves the champion of their respective deities. However this stalemate could not last forever and it was finally broken as the guardsman brought the butt of his rifle down on the knife arm of the cultist, forcing him to drop the weapon.  
The servant of Chaos howled in agony and flailed mindlessly, appearing as though trying to escape the pain of his broken arm.  
Not even bothering to stab this bastard traitor he brought the butt of the rifle down again, though this time on the cultist's skull.

The guardsman stood up relishing his victory, seeing it as a symbol, the Emperor conquering Hell.

He didn't see another cultist take aim with their laspistol

He didn't feel the shot enter his brain and leave through the back of his skull

He certainly didn't hear as his killer laughed and mocked him, while blaspheming the Emperor's name,  
"The Emperor Protects!" he giggled as he stepped over the body of the guardsman.


	5. Gods of Battle

Launch bay of the _Vigilant Eternal_

Chaplain Dolus observed his men preparing for war. Everywhere was the click-clack of bolters being loaded ad placed at the ready, firing mechanisms were calibrated, and the battle-brothers sung almost as one the hymns and battle songs of the Imperial Fists Chapter. He nodded with satisfaction as he watched the marines conduct these exercises with an almost jubilant vigor, Dolus prayed to the Emperor to let them send their foes to Hell.

The forces of the Imperial Fists formed up and began to systematically load up into the waiting thunderhawks, not a single man out of line, all ready to fight the instant their respective transports reached groundside.

As the Imperial Fist Chaplain trod to his thunderhawk he gazed at the machine that was to be their war chariot and carry them into holy battle. He prayed to the Golden Throne that this metal beast would turn the shots of the traitor marines and their heretic lackeys. Finally, Dolus strode up the ramp and embarked upon the thunderhawk. As the Gunship Transports began their descent behind the enemy lines, Dolus would hear Brother Solomon whisper the rite of firing to his heavy bolter, praying to its machine spirit so that it may not jam in the heat of battle, he would here the Neophytes whisper their apprehension to their comrades or chant the litanies against evil, the other Astartes on the ship appeared as though statues, unflinching and unmoving, the ultimate warriors of humanity. Chaplain Dolus prayed to the Emperor and to Dorn as the Thunderhawk formation flew on across the sky.

It was not long until the Imperial Fist's destination had been reached. As the assault craft decelerated, came under fire from the entrenched Iron Warriors, Bolt shells buffeted the Imperial craft and the warriors inside could hear rounds plink off or felt the spray of bolt shell fragments connect with the outside of the hull. However, the Thunderhawk was not without a response of its own, and respond it did, the screams of the wounded filled Chaplain Dolus hearing as heavy autocannon shells and missles found their marks on the ground below. The squads disembarked from the transports and fought the enemy on the battlefield for the first time.

Chaplain Dolus lead the charge into the frantic Iron Warriors and their fodder-slaves, forming a wedge and driving home like a spear into the Iron Warrior's battle lines, screams and shouts of confusion and pain erupted from the enemy as they were cut down in droves. Brother Helios brought down a slave with a swift jab from his knife and another with a brutal backhand, Brother Ollanus brought his massive, thrice blessed chainsword to bear impaling a Traitor marine in the belly and revving the holy chainsword, the Iron Warrior died screaming as his intestines were torn from his being, Ollanus continued on through thick of the battle, decapitating and butchering and murdering with contempt and utter loathing for these heretical forces. In those first few seconds, the Imperial Fists were invincible, the momentum of their charge breaking apart the formations of traitor marines that the Thunderhawks had already softened up. Alas, this was not to last, as the traitor marines were recovered quickly falling in and counter-attacking, Brother Hurth was the first to fall to the guns of the enemy, a bolt round through the visor. Chaplain Dolus watched as Hurth fell to the ground, brain matter and gore gushing from what 

once was his head. Dolus kept the charge going, shouting the catechisms of hate through the din of battle, he swung his Crozius, leaving a mist blue afterglow through the air, and connected with the chest plate of the nearest Iron Warrior, crushing the ribcage of the howling traitor and liquefying the bastard's insides. Dolus moved on quickly, swinging and killing, a whirlwind of righteous death, decapitating and bashing slave and traitor marine alike, his Rosarius and Holy Power Armour turning every blow. It was when he killed his fourth Iron Warrior that the resolve of the enemy broke, they began to flee into their secondary emplacements in the hopes to regroup and force the interlopers from their camp.

"Brothers! Sons of Dorn! Watch the Traitor-whoresons flee from you! They deny you their deaths! Shall we give chase to these heretic wretches and paint our weapons with their blood?"

The response was thunderous. The very walls seemed to shake as the Imperial gods of battle shouted their war cries and vented their rage at the fleeing Iron Warriors.

"Onward brothers! We have yet more traitors to kill!"


	6. Killing Ground

-1Chaplain Dolus hated the Iron Warriors, hated them with ever fiber of his being. His heavy ceramite boots thudding along the blasted, barren ground as he ran forward ahead of his flock so that he might stand in judgment of these traitors who turned on his beloved Emperor ten thousand years ago and perpetrated the most grievous tragedy of the Imperial Fists Chapter, the Iron Cage incident.

The Iron Warriors had already fled to their secondary siege lines but the insane chaotic cultists were not blessed with the same alacrity of their masters.

Dolus and the three squads of Imperial Fists that had accompanied him into this battle gave chase, pressing their advantage home, putting bolt round after bolt round in the backs of the cultists shattering spines, liquefying organs, exploding limbs. Soon they caught up to and overtook the fleeing servants of the Sons of Peturabo, tearing into them with their powerfists, chainswords, knives, and even bare hands.

The Chaplain had lost count of the number he personally had slain, swings his Crozius and popping a man's head like a bloody pimple. When what seemed like an eternity of mindless, effortless slaughter passed, they were upon the lines of the Iron Warriors.

Having regrouped and abandoning their servants so as to slow the Imperial Fists, the Iron Warriors raised their accursed bolters as one and let loose volley after volley into the mix of cultists and Space Marines.

The lines of cultists were thick and they absorbed the brunt of the attack but a few bolt shells pierced the mob, Dolus observed Sergeant Beros stumble as his knee cap was blown out, he fell, but soon rose again limping forward swearing oaths against the Chaos Space Marines.

Not a single of the Emperor's Astartes were brought down by the firepower of the Iron Warriors, though several were wounded, but then that was the point, soften their attackers and finish them in glorious close combat.

"Into them brothers!," Dolus shouted his encouragement to his brethren "Show them the might of the Emperor's Finest, the Sons of Rogal Dorn!"

Dolus was the first one into the trench he brought his Crozius down upon the head of an Iron Warrior, immediately shattering ceramite and bone and snuffing life.

He brought his bolt pistol up and began to purge any vile heretic he saw.

It was around him that the Imperial Fists flowed, regrouping and taking heart in the destruction sowed by the Priest of Dorn

"For the Gene-Father and Him of Earth!"


	7. Iron Within

-1A half kilometer away from

Corrinthia Primaris

Warsmith Sotep, favored of the Chaos Undivided and son of Peturabo silently mouthed his dark prayers.

Candles rested upon human skulls illuminating his sanctum with flickering light, unholy iconography filled the walls that never seemed to sit still, as if the eyes refused to look at them directly.

Fully Armoured, Sotep knelt before the shrine to the four gods of the warp

He prayed for victory

He prayed for power

Most of all he prayed for the savage death of the Space Marines who would dare attempt to thwart his designs on this world.

He rose and poured a gobbet full of the viscera of an Imperial priestess, her virgin blood like a fine wine to Khorne, onto the skull marked with the sigil of Khorne.

He would need the god of murder and bloodshed to smile upon him this day

Sotep marched from his quarters into the light of Demeter's sun. His personal retinue of Iron Warriors gathered before him, he could hear the war cries and battle oaths of his brethren as the fought to drive back the Imperial Fists in the distance.

"The enemy is at our doorstep" He examined each of his warriors "In the name of the Dark Gods we will end them, for Peturabo we will tear them apart, none shall survive"

His Iron Warriors stood at attention, unmoving

"Avenge those slain already! Iron within!"

The reply was thunderous "IRON WITHOUT"

And so Warsmith Garrous Sotep marched to war, his retinue marching in step.


	8. Duel

Brother Solomon trained his heavy bolter on the Iron Warriors around him, chugging away, severing limbs, rupturing organs, and exploding skulls and ceramite.

To his left he saw a screaming Iron Warrior bring his chain-ax in wide arc in an attempt to bisect his head. He dove away but the ax tore into his heavy bolter with a screech, without missing a beat Solomon drew his combat knife and went for the kill, but this wasn't an insane cultist, or a weakling traitor guardsman, this was a Chaos Space Marine, ten thousand year veteran at that. Solomon's blade did not connect, the Iron Warrior was a blur, swinging his chain-ax in a frenzy screaming his praise to the dark gods.

Feint left  
Duck right  
Parry  
Parry  
Duck left  
Right  
Jump back

The Imperial Fist prayed to the Emperor for an opening, anything to exploit the better armed Chaos Marine.

Then it happened  
his opening

The Chaotic Marine gripped his chain-ax in both hands and made to swing with all his might, rage overtaking competent thought, Solomon was fast enough to evade the monstrous blow and the Iron Warrior lost his balance falling forward onto one knee.

"Die Traitor filth!"

Solomon leapt at the fallen marine with the intent to sever his spine at the neck, his chest swelled at the prospect of victory and his guard dropped ever so slightly as he savored his moment of triumph over the fallen marine.

The Son of Peturabo rolled, his timing perfect, he had thrown brother Solomon off balance and was on his feet in a second swiping at Solomon's leg with his chain-ax as he rose taking it off at the knee.

With a heavy thud Solomon fell into the dirt and grime of the trench thrashing and screaming his rage at the treacherous Iron Warrior.

Without hesitation the Iron Warrior severed Solomon's head from his body and moved on to the next battle.

Solomon's corpse continued to weep blood.


	9. Wrath of the Faithful

As the melee raged around Chaplain Dolus, he observed how valiantly his battle-brothers fought and swelled with pride at such a marvelous showcase of skill and ruthlessness.

He returned his focus to the task at hand, there was a battle to win and they were outnumbered but the close quarters of the trench and the speed and ferocity of their surprise attack had gotten them this far, but they could still be undone.

He swung his Crozius Arcanum crushing the head of a heretic serf and ducked low under the chainsword of an attacking Iron Warrior, throwing the warrior off balance and delivering a punishing blow to the chest, felling the foul warrior, Dolus finished him off with a swift strike to the head ending his career of bloodshed and murder.

Laspistol shots fizzed against the energy field of Dolus's Rosarius and bolt shells were deflected harmlessly.

"This the power of the Emperor," he spat and returned fire with his blessed bolt pistol scoring several kills and shattering the visor of an Iron Warrior, blinding him.

Then something changed

The flow of battle began to shift, where there was once a sound retreat there now was resolve.

The counter-charge began

Dolus found himself on the defensive more and more, the hordes of the enemy seemed without end

He saw Brother Mikhail suddenly drop from a bolt round to the knee and looked on as he was swarmed by cultists, hacking at his armour with crude blades and bludgeons caring not for their own safety as the wounded god continued to thrash and kill.

Determination filled Chaplain Dolus Tarsimov.

He would claim this planet, he would wrest it from the foul talons of the Dark Gods and leave their servants blackened and dead on its surface, he will kill, he will burn, he will purge.

In the name of Rogal Dorn and the Golden Throne of Terra.

"We are your end, the harbingers of your apocalypse!" he roared his defiance "Brothers! To me! Drive them back! For the Emperor!"


	10. Mortals amongst Gods

The guardsmen of the 513th regiment looked on in abject horror from the walls of Corrinthia Primaris, they were spectators in a battle between deities and demigods, they were unsure of their place in all of this.

"Form up men and women of the 513th!" the order came from a battle weary but determined Commissar, he straightened his sash

"Regroup!" he continued to rally the guardsmen of Demeter, irritation at his apparent lack of success began to seep into his voice, "By the God-Emperor you will form up and prepare for battle or you will die" He brandished his laspistol.

Commissar Ignus Lenc was forty standard years old and clean shaven, his clothes pressed and smooth, he was thin but powerfully built. A highly disciplined man, he made it his duty to keep the soldiers of Demeter fighting to the last.

He pointed his weapon at the nearest Guardsman who immediately decided to adhere to the command of the Commissar, as did the rest of the Regiment.

Lenc, however, was far from satisfied

"Are you content to just sit back and allow the Astartes, the Avatars of our Lord Emperor, to punish the wicked without the support of His Imperial Guard?"

There was a nervous murmur through the assembled soldiers

"This filth invades your home, murders your world, kills your families, defiles the very ground you walk on and you stand back in fear?" He narrows his eyes, "The Emperor gave us many things, love, understanding, faith, but the most powerful and useful of all the things He taught us is hate."

The Commissar examined the crowd before him, "I ask you now, where is your hate? These abominations tread your world and yet, you do not seek there total and complete destruction?" The mood had changed, the soldiers began to remember all those slain in the name of the Fell Powers, "Will you avenge your families? Will you ensure this world remains in our most beloved Emperor's Dominion?"

The assembled Guardsmen shouted there assurances, "Remember this day! The day that mortal men stood against Daemons and Devils and triumphed!"

There was a roar of approval as the wall gates opened and men poured out eager to purge the taint from their home.

Commissar Ignus Lenc looked on and smiled.


	11. The Weak Fight Back

Chaplain Dolus continued to fight on through the maelstrom of battle, many had fallen to his holy, blessed weapon, but the damned were far too numerous to hold back for much longer. He was determined to triumph, but by the Throne he wasn't sure how he would do it.

"Brothers! Hold them back! Take as many as you can screaming into the abyss!" He gave the order and prepared himself.

Las shots cracked from behind him and at first he thought they had been surrounded, but he saw the Heraldry of the Emperor upon these men. They were PDF, not the battle hardened space faring soldiers of the Emperor, they were looked down upon by the star crossing Imperial Guard as weak and soft. Dolus did not see weakness in these men, he saw faith, he saw courage, but mostly he saw impossible determination, the lifeblood of mankind. He watched squads of soldiers assault Chaos Space Marines, each an evil god unto himself, with rifle butts and bayonets and fists. Dolus saw the fires of the zealot in these men and women and was proud. He turned his attentions back to the slaughter around him.

Dolus waded through the carnage of the battle and he locked eyes with what appeared to be a fell lord of chaos.

Warsmith Sotep had been shouting orders and oaths when he saw the Imperial Chaplain, the two champions began to march toward one another with an implacable determination.

No words were exchanged, only blows

Chaplain Dolus surged forth with righteous fury, swinging madly and accurately, but one does not become a Warsmith of the Iron Warriors without superior combat skills, and so Sotep had dodged and sidestepped every swing from his skull-faced opponent.

"Far too slow holy man," He mocked, Sotep drew his daemon sword and let loose a flurry of blows that Dolus narrowly avoided

Dolus simply roared in response and swung two-handed overhead at the Warsmith who locked blades with the Fist Chaplain.

Daemon weapon locked with Crozius Arcanum, light and dark, holy and unholy

The battle for the Soul of Demeter was begun in earnest.


	12. Heaven and Hell

Flickers of energy, after-images of blows impossibly fast, two leaders standing resolute and determined.

Dolus held his ground, as did Sotep. The mortal enemies never broke eye contact for the entirety of their duel, both sides saw it as a matter of honour, Throne have mercy on the poor fool who would interfere on behalf of their superiors.

"Warp scum!," bellowed Dolus

"Corpse lackey," answered Sotep

Dolus charged forth, swinging in a wide horizontal arc attempting to crush Warsmith Sotep's ribs, but to no effect, the blow was turned but the inertia of Chaplain Dolus carried him forward and he delivered a vicious hook directly into the face plate of the Iron Warrior. Sotep spun with the blow, not missing a step and extending his sword out intending to gut the Imperial Chaplain, who was fast enough to avoid the kill stroke but not injury altogether.

Chaplain Dolus felt white hot pain surge up his leg as the filthy, corrupted blade parted his flesh and supped upon his vitality.

"First blood," Sotep declared, and inside his helmet he smiled.

Dolus ignored the wound and continued the duel, as though nothing happened, merely screaming his rage at the fallen angel of the Emperor.

Sotep decided to take the initiative and put the priest on the defense, sword swinging, a flurry of blows, most parried but some were inevitable, Dolus had received a number of cuts and bruises, he simply was not fast enough to stop and counter the Warsmith. Dolus parried, locking his Crozius with the Daemon sword once more and forced it down, coming in close and backhanding Sotep staggering him and leaving him open for a strike, Dolus quickly brought his Crozius up then down in one fluid motion on to the shoulder of the chaos lord, dislocating his bone.

Sotep grunted with surprise more than pain and rode the force of the strike allowing his motions to conform to the direction in which he had received the blow. Coming upon a bleeding, and tired Chaplain, Sotep struck the wrist of the Imperial Astarte with the pommel of his Daemon weapon breaking fingers and forcing Dolus to drop his Holy Power Weapon.

Sotep followed with a savage blow to the head with the pommel of his infernal weapon. Dolus fell back into the dirt and grime of the camp beyond the trench, out of breath and defeated.

Warsmith Garrous Sotep began to laugh at his fallen opponent, savoring his despair like a fine wine, he kicked away the Crozius like a broken toy into the middle of the frenzied melee going on all around them.

Chaplain Dolus's hand scrambled for a weapon, any weapon to use against the chaos bastard.

His hand closed around a Space Marine battle knife, looking discreetly at its heraldry, so as not to alarm Warsmith Sotep to this small development, he saw who it belonged to, Brother Augustus Solomon slain in battle.

Sotep stepped closer, laughing

Dolus's hand closed around the handle of the semi-buried knife, Sotep still none the wiser.

Chaplain Dolus Tarsimov commended his soul to the Emperor and threw the knife with unnatural speed and ferocity at the laughing Warsmith Sotep.

It traveled through the air and buried itself up to the haft into the throat of the Chaos Space Marine.

Sotep was no longer laughing, he had lost the ability to.

The Chaplain was on him in an instant, smashing him with nothing but his fists, delivering monstrous blow after monstrous blow. Sotep's auto-senses began to fail as his helmet began taking more and more punishment. First his unholy helmet cracked open partially revealing the tatooed head and face of the Lord of Chaos.

The Chaplain's eyes were ablaze with fury and hatred, a rain of hammer blows never ending upon the head of Sotep.

Finally after his savage and brutal beating Sotep looked at the Chaplain through blurry and confused eyes, his brain was hemorrhaging and his skull cracked in several places, he watched Dolus bring his fist up for a mighty coup de grace.

The last word Warsmith Garrous Sotep of the Iron Warriors would ever hear.

"Die."

And then his entire head was destroyed beyond all recognition.


	13. Investigation Pending

Clearance: Magenta

Encryption: Enigmus v 4.6

Date: 224.999.M41

Author: Inquisitor Mikhail Torr

Subject: Demeter after-action report

Recipient: Lord Inquisitor Peter Straus, Segmentum Obscurus, Helican Sub-Sector

My lord I am proud to say that my foray to Demeter was a resounding success, the Great Enemy has been defeated and Imperial Rule restored.

My compliments to the planetary PDF who have shown an incredible resistance to the corruption of Chaos.

However victory could not have been accomplished without the Imperial Fists, particularly a group lead by a Chaplain Dolus Tarsimov who relieved the lone regiment defending the gates to the Capitol city, and not only drove the attackers into a full retreat, but hunted down and killed the mastermind of the entire uprising. Cohesion within the Chaos Hordes was quickly lost as they lacked a strong leader to unify them against Imperial Authorities in the system.

Planetary Governor Konrad Herstein was found guilty of gross negligence, the number of Cultist cells on this planet as well as within this system is simply staggering. He was sentenced to a summary execution and his family is currently being investigated for ties to the followers of the dark gods.

I pray to Him Enthroned on Earth that this message finds you in good health,

_Mikhail Torr_


End file.
